#and if i do end up writing stuff i don’t want it to end up hitting a wall and just. go unnoticed

[rivervalian]

strap in time for a riverlore explanation:

ok so at the end of season 5, veronica’s evil dad hiram lodge places a bomb under betty and archie’s bed which goes off and the force of the explosion sends them into a parallel universe called rivervale where supernatural stuff happens.

satan himself comes to visit rivervale his name is lou cypher and everyone makes a deal with him. (unrelated to the plot, just wanted to let yall know)

they have a 5 episode arc in rivervale where all characters die but they don’t stay dead and in the end we find out archie created this reality to see his dead father once more which is very sweet and touching actually.

eventually the universes start to leak into one another and season 1 reggie shows up and picks a fight with the recasted reggie and veronica’s like we should have a threesome.

another jughead from another dimension comes in to fix this whole thing and his idea is to make out with veronica on archie’s bed because him and veronica are the antithesis or betty and archie.

anyways they eventually fix the timeline without bombs but here’s the catch: a jughead must stay in the teen sex bunker forever and write comics of riverDale and riverVale so that the two universes can coexist.

i would like to point out that at this point in time (at least in my opinion) there are 4 jugheads in the riververse: 1. riverdale jughead 2. rivervale jughead 3. narrator jughead we’ve all met in episode 1 and finally 4. teen sex bunker jughead who’s writing comics to prevent the two universes from collapsing

they return to the normal timeline but the main characters have gained superpowers as a result of their proximity to the supernatural. betty can see people’s auras, archie is invincible, veronica is toxic (literally), tabitha can control time, jughead can read and control minds and cheryl can manipulate fire.

by this point percival pickens arrives in town and he’s like i’m gonna make this place into a late stage capitalism dream land and archie’s like nuh uh you won’t. percival starts building a ghost train and he won’t pay the workers. archie and tabitha convince the workers to unionize by singing bread and roses.

there’s an episode where tabitha tries to prevent the mlk assassination. she also stops riverdale from becoming a sundown town. in the same episode i believe we find out tabitha is actually an angel she’s the guardian angel of riverdale. this realization comes to her as she’s drinking chocolate milkshake from the holy grail. yes, THE holy grail from jesus’ last supper.

percival pickens will gain even more powers from the upcoming comet so the gang has to stop it from destroying riverdale. they don’t know what to do though.

now would be a good time to mention cheryl has an ancestor called abigail blossom who was burned at stake for being a witch by archie, betty and jughead’s ancestors: archibald andrews, beatrice cooper and jedediah jones. this abigail was a lesbian and in love with toni’s ancestor: thomasina topaz.

we also find out abigail resurrected in the body of cheryl and another one of cheryl’s ancestors poppyseed blossom.

back to thomasina though. cheryl contacts abigail’s soul and she’s like ok i’ll help you only if you let me have one night with thomasina. so toni and cheryl have their souls trapped in a jar while abigail and thomasina use their bodies as vessels. they have lesbian sex and then abigail’s like yeah i’ll help you now. basically lesbian sex saves the world.

what do is that veronica is basically a human dialysis machine so she sucks out everyone’s powers and transfers them to cheryl who’s also a witch btw. cheryl destroys the comet but she can’t save the town completely unscathed but they were late so tabitha the guardian angel creates a pocket of time in the 50s and places riverdale there. cheryl the lesbian is canonically the most powerful character in riververse.

the final season takes place in the 50s. the guardian angel tabitha shows up and she has everyone watch the previous 6 seasons of riverdale and everyone remembers. then on the last day of school it’s revealed that jughead, betty, veronica and archie have all been in a quad relationship this whole time. congrats riverdale for being the only show that has the balls to do that btw.

in the end betty is the only one alive from her class. it’s now 2023 and she’s like 80 (because remember they went back in time and grew old from there). she wants to go back to visit riverdale with the ghost(?) of jughead who’s like a genie granting her wish i suppose. and there we get another jughead so at this point there are canonically 5 jugheads in riververse.

in the final scene betty dies and goes to heaven which we find out is actually just pop’s chock’lit shoppe in the sky. she sits on her table with jughead, veronica and archie. with the heaven version, our number of jugheads has gone up to 6.

but it doesn’t stop there. the camera pans out into the parking lot. there’s yet another jughead there. he explains to us how they will always have this and they will never escape the comics or something along these lines. this is our 7th and i believe final jughead.

there you go this is the explanation: they never really died and will likely never ever die. even if they died, it wasn’t like they were dead the whole time. it was a great finale.

there are also many things i missed like julian the cursed doll coming back as cheryl’s evil twin julian completely replacing jason blossom and jason having his only ever speaking role etc but yeah you get the point

also this isn’t even the quarter of what happens in the show so if you have any questions just drop them and i’d be happy to answer them i love talking about riverdale

every single word of this feels like it was pulled out of a bingo machine

[silcoitus]

Hello! I think I'm doing this right but if not, I'm so sorry:

What do you think Silco would do if he found out, years later/during Act 2, that a fling he had when he was alot younger and dumber, resulted in him having a Son/Gender neutral child living in Piltover?

(how this is discovered can be completely up to you)

Would the angst of them being a Piltovian(?) citizen permanently leave their relationship undefined or would he push away his hatred of Piltover and try and meet them?

Better yet, how would Jinx react to this?

Just a bit of potential angst to spice things up I guess haha.

Thank you!

Thank you for this amazing prompt, anon! It's one of my favorite ones I've ever received! Why does writing angst soothe me? It doesn't make sense.

Summer's Ghost

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: Silco, original female character, original child character, angst, depression, reference to character death, character study

Word count: 2.7k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

Silco receives a curious letter from a Piltie boy claiming to be his son. Spurred by lingering bitterness and unresolved anger, Silco visits Topside for answers and to finally speak his mind to the woman who left him so many years ago.

Dear Mr. Silco,

I'm not exactly sure how even to begin this letter, so I’ll start with the part that is most relevant to you:

I am your son.

I know, I didn't believe it at first either. But if you keep reading, I can tell you how that happened.

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover. She was the top of her class and an artist. My grandparents tell me that, in her university days, she had a bit of a rebellious streak. She ran away from home to live in the Undercity. Over the course of a summer there, she met a man. And fell in love.

You probably know more about how the rest of this story goes than me.

After that summer, my mom had a change of heart. She returned home with a new bundle in tow: me. And while she never told me, I assume she left the Undercity in order to raise me here.

But you probably don’t care about all that. You just want to know why I’m writing to you. 

Well, first off: I'm not asking for money. My mom (and grandparents) provided for me and I have a comfortable life here in Piltover. 

I don't want anything from you. Not really. I wrote because… well… My mother died recently. It's actually how I found out about you. My birth was a closely guarded secret and it was only when I was cleaning her stuff out after her death that I learned. She had a box of things from her time with you: a diary, some photographs, a bracelet. I thought you might want them.

I don’t know what your relationship with my mother was like or how it ended, but this seemed like something she would want me to do. If I crossed a line, I’m sorry. 

I've attached her obituary. It has her final resting place. If you want to collect the box, I've left it on her grave. If you haven’t taken it by next week, I’ll assume you want nothing to do with it. And that’s okay, too.

Sincerely,

M.

P.S I also included a photo for proof. You can hold onto it. I already made myself a copy.

When finally Silco lifts his eyes from the letter, it's with slightly parted lips and inward curling eyebrows. Visions of memories long ago flick across his mind’s eye unbidden, released like water from a dam. 

Setting the letter down, he retrieves the other effects in the pneumatic tube. Fingers tremble as they pull out a small photograph. It's worn around the edges and the ink has faded significantly, but the image is unmistakable: it's him in his early twenties, standing next to the woman who left him.

He remembers that summer clearly, the memories vivid and the feelings so strong it could power a Hexgate. He remembers the late nights talking, the sound of her laugh, the way she was always sketching in her notebook. He remembers the first time they kissed, followed quickly by the first time they made love.

Silco’s lips press into a thin line, something bitter bubbling within him. 

He remembers his desperation when he ran through the Lanes, searching for her. He remembers how he couldn’t sleep for days, worried something had happened. That someone had taken her. Or worse. He remembers crying so hard that he could feel it in his teeth, his cheekbones feeling as if someone was pressing their thumbs to them with the aim of crushing them. He remembers drinking.

And drinking.

And drinking.

Drinking to cope.

Drinking to forget.

Drinking to wash down the bitter taste of the knowledge that he had let someone get so close to him so quickly, only for them to rip his heart out and slash it to pieces. And to add insult to injury—

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover.

He stares at that word again.

Piltover

Hand shaking violently, he picks up the pneumatic tube and hurls it across the room. It breaks on impact as it hits the office door, glass shards flying through the air.

Of course.

Who else could chew him up and spit him out? Who else but a Piltie? His home—his life—nothing more than a tourist attraction to her, a vacation away from her cushy, privileged life. 

How could he have been so blind?

How could he have been so stupid?

He can feel his heart rate rising, chest heaving as his breathing grows unsteady. Good eye fluttering closed, he puts one hand out, signaling himself to stop.

Slow down.

Breathe.

He takes one long inhale through his nose, holding it for a moment before blowing it out his mouth through pursed lips. When he opens his eyes, his jaw is set, decision made.

He snatches the letter, photo, and newspaper clipping off the desk, shoves them into his coat pocket, and walks out the door.

As far as final resting places go, this certainly is one of the more luxurious ones. Even in death, Topsiders can’t help but preen and self-aggrandize, if not with their bodies, their tombs. Each gravestone seems to be attempting to outdo the next, growing larger and more gaudy in size as Silco walks down the rows of graves. Subconsciously, his nostrils flare and his mouth twitches into a snarl.

When he finds her name among the dead, he’s surprised to see not a tombstone but rather a park bench. Constructed out of blue pearl granite and polished to a brilliant shine, her name, date of birth, and date of death are carved into the back. The soil around the bench looks freshly turned over and the carved letters barely have any dust or dirt accumulated in them. Studying the dates, it would seem M did not lie; she had died two weeks ago. 

And there—sitting on one end of the bench, waiting for him—is the box.

His chin lifts as his mismatched eyes scan his surroundings, looking over his shoulder, his ears alert and listening for any signs of other visitors. Certain no one is nearby or within eavesdropping distance, he turns his attention back to the bench.

He could just take the box and go. There’s no need for him to linger here. But as he stands staring at her name—carved with such finality into that unmoving stone—he can’t bring himself to leave.

And yet, it’s odd, addressing a bench. On his way over, he had envisioned himself spitting on a tombstone with great satisfaction. But now, as he’s faced with something as welcoming as a bench in a beautifully maintained cemetery, he feels stuck. Any anger that had been boiling in his abdomen before has simmered down, upended by the unexpected appearance of his former lover’s grave.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves the photograph. After propping it up on the bench, he addresses the woman who lies six feet underground. 

“You…” He can’t even bring himself to say her name, both hands balled into fists in his coat pockets. “You’ve been here this entire time.”

Both eyes roll as he realizes the error of his statement.

“Not here, but in Piltover.” He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, good eye squeezed shut. “I searched for you for weeks. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I thought someone had taken you. I thought you had—”

Died.

Well.

It’s accurate now, isn’t it?

“Typical Topsider,” he spits out, one hand gesturing as if throwing something away, like the way she had thrown him away, “You come to my home, promising a bright and brilliant future, but all you do is leave destruction in your wake.”

He steps back, pulls his head back, and spits onto the freshly dug soil.

“Disgusting,” he snarls. “And to think, I had lov—”

He pauses, unable to finish the word.

He was young. He was ignorant. That was not love he felt for her. Nor adoration. That was infatuation; merely a young man’s naive idea of what love was.

What that was—it was Not Love.

Silco pulls his fingers through his hair, collecting himself.

“Why?” His hand curls into a fist again. His tone is bitter, full of anger, growing in volume. “I don’t care why you left; I know exactly why you left.” 

As he continues to speak, his concerns about being overheard are overcome by the thundering emotions swelling inside him, churning and bubbling after years of dormancy. “You didn’t want your son to grow up to be a street urchin like his sumprat father. No… all I want to know is…”

His next words are bellowed out, the sound coming from deep within his lungs, each word punctuated with a pregnant pause, as if he means to put his entire body into every syllable.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?”

There’s a flurry of wings as nearby birds take flight, spooked by the sudden noise. 

Silco’s good eye flutters closed again and he takes long, deep breaths, recentering himself. His hand comes up, forefinger pressing to his sternum. There’s a desperation to his voice now, a yearning. Mourning something he didn’t even know he had until a few hours ago.

“I had a right to know.” He opens his good eye, staring at the photograph. Staring at her. “He is my son. He is my blood. How could you have kept him from me for so many years?”

He gathers himself, eyes casting to the ground. 

He had so much more he wanted to say. Years of anguish, torment. But now that he’s here, he’s forgotten them all.

He feels empty.

Finally, he slumps down on the bench, next to the box. It remains untouched beside him. He sits with his shoulders sagging forward, both elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as his head hangs low. 

It’s quiet in the cemetery.

He turns his face toward the photograph, addressing the woman in it with a whisper of a voice. “All I wanted was for you to be okay. For you to live a good life.”  He lifts his head toward the great, open sky of the City of Progress, free from smoke and fissure gasses and ash. “And I suppose I got what I wanted.”

He hangs his head once more, speaking to the ground at his feet.

“You just did it without me.”

A stiff breeze blows through, tugging at his coat. He makes no move to bundle himself up further, letting the chill air surround him, seeping into his bones.

He sits.

And remembers.

After a few moments, he hears movement. Ears prickling and head whipping up, he spots a boy walking between some nearby tombstones. He looks to be a teenager, fifteen—maybe sixteen—years of age. The boy pauses at one of the graves, looking at it silently, his hands shoved into his pockets. After a moment, his eyes lift and meet Silco’s.

Silco meets his gaze, unblinking. The boy doesn’t seem at all fazed by Silco’s corrupted eye, giving him a small, polite nod. Silco nods in return before tearing his eyes away.

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes pause on the small wooden box on the bench. 

Mahogany. Expertly crafted. Like the bench, it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Unbidden, Silco’s throat bobs as he reaches for the box and gingerly places it on his lap.

After taking a deep breath, he lifts the lid.

The first thing he sees is a bracelet. Black in color and made of thin strips of leather with small circular charms along the strings, it’s plain and modest. The surface of the leather looks almost brittle, worn around its edges from frequent use.

Underneath, there’s a stack of photos. Lifting them, he recognizes the first as one he had taken. The late woman stands laughing beside The Last Drop’s jukebox, Felicia grinning widely next to her. Vander can be seen in the corner, caught mid-sentence as he speaks with whom Silco can only assume is Benzo. Setting down that photo, Silco’s eyebrows lift when he sees the next one.

He doesn’t remember this photo being taken at all, which is curious given the fact he’s the one and only subject of the photo. Silco—sporting long hair tied back in a low bun—sits at the bar, pouring over his notebook. His right arm is wrapped in strips of off-white fabric and in his hand is a pencil, which hovers over the page, posed to write. 

Silco remembers this night.

It was the night Felicia told him and Vander she was pregnant with Violet. It was the night everything changed.

Funny, how the night he learns of one pregnancy happens to also be the night his lover leaves him because of hers.

He hums, continuing to study the photograph.

He had forgotten what he looked like at that age, so used to seeing his marred reflection in the mirror. So used to covering half of his face with foundation just to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Silco’s about to look through the rest of the box when he sees movement out of his periphery. Quickly, he shuts the box and looks up to see the boy from before, standing in front of him.

“Sorry,” he says, voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Silco replies simply. His good eyebrow lifts in silent question.

“Is it okay if…” The boy gestures to the empty spot on the bench. 

Silco stands, hand offering the seat, the box neatly tucked under his arm.

“Oh, you didn’t have to leave,” the boy says, scooting over to leave some room. “I just wanted to sit for a little bit.”

Silco eyes him for a moment, then, against his better judgement, sits back down. The mahogany box feels heavy in his lap. The boy’s eyes look at it briefly before looking out into the rest of the cemetery.

The pair sit in silence, the only sound the rustle of the leaves as the wind rushes through the nearby trees. Silco’s hand covers the box, fingers idly smoothing over the carving of a rose on the lid.

He doesn’t know why he does it, compelled by a nagging curiosity, but Silco breaks the silence.

“Do you have family here?”

The boy nods. “My grandpa.”

Silco hums.

Silence falls between them again.

“Do you?” the boy asks, eyes lifting to meet Silco’s.

Silco’s lips press together, the tip of his chipped tooth catching the inside of his mouth a little.

“In a sense.”

The boy sighs. “At least it’s a pretty nice view.”

Silco follows his gaze.

“It is.”

“Well, except for that.” 

The boy points to a large tombstone made of porcelain with gold accents all along its edges. Every inch of it seems to be covered in some sort of design, painted in blue. But the patterns come across as less elegant and more like visual noise; the eye given nowhere to rest, the senses overwhelmed by all the complicated shapes and textures.

Laughing, the boy makes a retching noise. “It’s so ugly.”

Silco’s lips pull into a smirk, head tilting.

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Yup.”

The boy abruptly gets to his feet, seemingly satisfied. Turning to Silco, he puts his hand out in offering.

“I’m Marlow, by the way.”

“Marlow.” Silco takes his hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy nods, seemingly out of words. After offering a small smile, he turns on his heel, heading for the gates.

Silco continues to sit on the bench, thumb rubbing absentmindedly on the box’s carvings. After a moment, his eyes widen and he reaches into his coat pocket for the letter, eyes darting down to the bottom.

M.

He looks up to find the boy has disappeared. He lets a short chuckle out of his nose as he shakes his head, rising to his feet.

After one final look at his ex-lover’s grave, he starts his trek back home.

He has a feeling this won’t be the last time he visits this cemetery.

And it won’t be the last he’s seen of that boy.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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[opiopal]

yeah I think a lot of us have already seen/heard the news, I actually saw it last night but was to tired from being sick to process.

I am going to continue writing on this blog for OM, I don’t think I’d be able to stop anyways, this game has kinda been my life since 2021, even though of course I didn’t start actually writing anything since early this year I’m pretty sure. I don’t think a single day goes by without me having at least one thought about it.

though I do wanna say I’m not super surprised, I feel like the devs have been leaning towards abandoning the games for a while, and have just been trying to make as much money as possible. unfortunately, obey me has turned into a more typical otome game, which honestly, I liked it because it wasn’t when I first discovered it, I could do stuff without having to pay actual money for anything at first, then progression gets harder, if you want certain features you can either grind for months on end or pay 40 dollars for it, and let’s not even talk about the most recent 30 dollars for a card plus short story for the older two. i do understand wanting to make money, especially with the state of the world and everything always getting more expensive. But I feel as if it gets to a point.

I love OM, I can appreciate all the hard work that went into the game, the art, voice acting, story telling, ect. And with how often events and stuff would come out and I’m sure they’re all fried with how much work they’ve done.

anyways, this is straight up buns, I’ll be posting some drafts later tonight though,

[ghostmoon1]

Day Nineteen - Putting on Ointment

Ghost x Soap

Master List

Gonna try and finish these, I stopped writing while my Tumblr account was terminated cause it took quite a toll on my mental. But I'm back and gonna finish these as best as I can! This si taking longer than I wanted, so it might be a bit slow still but I'll try. School's getting tough

CW: Mentions of injury, blood, Simon is stubborn asf

Words: 1,099

“Simon, sit yer ass down,” Johnny huffs from his place in the chair sat next to the hospital bed. “Just because you ain’t injured enough to be on bed rest, doesn’t mean yer gonna’ ignore the treatment.”

Simon, who was pacing around the room huffs in annoyance. His arms were crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, visible through the mask even. The gash on his arm was visible through the gauze, dried blood surrounding it after he refused for it to be cleaned fully. His excuse was that he didn’t need it, he wouldn’t die from a scratch. Even if it was far more than a scratch. 

“Don't need it, it’ll heal by itself,” Simon mutters. He continued to pace the room, the sound of his boots a never-ending soft thud against the cold, hard floors.

Johnny sighed and played with the tub of anaesthetic cream in his hands, rolling it between his palms in slight annoyance. “And what are yer gonna do if it gets infected?” Johnny mutters with growing annoyance. 

He watches Simon pause his pacing and tense. He knew he was right, but he was too damn stubborn to acknowledge he was. “I’ll clean it later.”

Johnny raises a brow at him. He knew his words were nothing but bullshit, he was just putting it off. He was usually good with this sort of stuff, but he was agitated at the moment, he didn’t want to sit still. “Y’know that's a lie. Let me do it for you then you won’t need to worry about it later. Least you don’t gotta worry about the nurses when I’m here.”

Simon huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’ll scare them away.”

“Mate, I think it’s you that scares them away.” He pauses and watches how he struggles to even move his arm, the roughly wrapped bandage making it a struggle. His heart lept to his throat as he studied the dried blood and the new blood still slowly oozing out and staining the bandage. He sighed, knowing it was probably a lost cause to be arguing about this, but he knew he had to try. “C’mon Si, just let me. Y’know I’ll be gentle.”

Simon tenses slightly as he listens to Johnny’s plea. He knew he had to. He was being as stubborn as a mule right now, but he didn’t want to let himself be so vulnerable. He was Ghost, Ghost was big, strong and scary. He didn’t ask for help, he grit his teeth and pushed through whatever the horrors of his job threw at them. He didn’t want to break that wall down to be vulnerable. That was something that scared him, that’s how you hurt yourself more when those walls crumble. He was afraid Johnny was already pulling them down around him, and he didn’t even need to do anything to do so.

He reluctantly moves back to the cot to sit on the edge of it, placing his arm on his lap so Johnny has easier access to it. “Fine… just get it over and done with.”

Johnny hums softly in victory, moving the chair closer so he can have a better look at the wound. His eyebrows knit together as he focuses, his fingers gently moving the bandage to check if it is stuck on the wound. He winces as Simon hisses in pain. “Sorry, just need to get it off. If yer let me clean it earlier…”

Simon grunts and moves his arm, but has it pulled right back to his lap by Johnny. It was too late to escape now. He watches as Johnny’s hands move slowly and carefully, managing to start unravelling the bandage. He grimaces as he notices just how much blood has soaked through. 

“Really should’ve let me do this earlier…” he mutters again, his eyes trained on the bandage as he works it off.

“Shut up,” Simon replies, although there is no bite to his words. If anything, his words were laced with guilt more than anything. He gasps slightly as Johnny gets to the last part of the bandage, slowly peeling it away from the wound. The dried blood and scabbing come with it, making them both wince. 

He throws the bandage away, grabs a cloth and dabs the wound down with some water to clean the area up a bit. “You’re doing well… it’s alright…” he mutters under his breath as he focuses on cleaning the wound.

Simon grits his teeth as pain shoots through his arm, trying to deal with it as much as he can. He reaches out with his good arm, grabbing onto Johnny’s arm in an attempt to ground himself. Johnny smiles and lets him grip his arm as tightly as he needs to deal with the pain. Once he finishes with the bloodied cloth, dabbing away the blood that he drew to the surface with the scabs gone he picks the ointment back up and unscrews the lid.

He takes a dollop onto his fingers, letting the ointment coat them well. He rubbed them together slightly before carefully dabbing it onto the wound, trying to cause as little pain as possible. “Yer doing well… just this then I’ll wrap it up again.”

Simon nods, trying to stay still as the cold ointment coats his wound. He watches Johnny's face screw up in concentration, the way his brows knit together and his eyes narrow. He adores the way he presses his lips together, wanting nothing more to run his thumb along his jawline and lips and savour the way he feels.

Johnny hums at his accomplishment as he finishes applying the ointment, wiping it off on his pants and screwing the lid back on. He picks up a new roll of bandages, taking the end and pressing it against his arm to start wrapping it. He hums to himself as he slowly and gently wraps the bandage around his arm, trying not to tie it too tight. “This feel okay?” he murmurs, his eyes darting up to check on Simon for a moment.

Simon grunts softly in response and nods, movinghis arm slightly to get a better feel of the bandage. “Yeah, thats okay.”

Johnny nods and continues to wrapp the bandage until the whole wound is dressed neatly. He ties it off and gently brushed his fingers against it. “Gotta be more careful, Si.”

Simon hums softly, meeting Johnny’s eyes for a moment. “I got you to look after me, don’t I?”

He huffs slightly, slipping his hand into his and squeezing. “Yeah, you do.”

[empyrealarthropod]

honestly, i think all of the above can be true. isha did serve a purpose for where they wanted jinx’s character arc to go, but the way they actually went about writing her and her relationship with jinx was a direct repeat of what we’d already seen before. and with them killing isha off so quickly, at a certain point, it starts to feel like they don’t know how to spark change in jinx without making her watch a loved one die. i would have preferred to see jinx change through introspection, in response to her existing relationships, the state of the world around her, stuff like that. not for it to be done through a prop character who vanishes from the story after her purpose is served. and with the repetition of yet another grief arc, and jinx not getting enough screentime in act 3 to do much outside of mourning, it ends up feeling like the majority of her story is focused on the ways loss affected her.

i don’t dislike isha as a concept. i think she could have been a good character and her relationship to jinx could have been something unique that took jinx’s character in a new direction.

but instead, she was never really her own person, she was used as a plot device. they didn’t do anything new with either their dynamic or the actual progression of how their story went.

oh, this person who used to want to fight against piltover has found themself in charge of a young child, and this child is now their priority above their past mission. we’ve already seen that, multiple times. a huge part of season 1 was showing how that same situation affected vander and silco in different ways. they just made jinx into vander 2.0 in a way that felt too heavy handed and too much of a 1 to 1 copy to actually be an interesting parallel.

and they didn’t bring anything new to it, like showing how the parental figure losing the child instead of the other way around would change them and their motives, because after jinx loses isha, her story is pretty much over. she puts her suicide on pause to help with the final battle, and then she dies. yeah, they’ll probably bring her out again briefly in a future show, but by then there’ll be a massive timeskip and her character will just be whatever they need it to be for the new region.

also, giving jinx someone close to her who loves her unconditionally and wants her to be what they see as her best self, who then dies in a way that she has some degree of responsibility for? that already happened too. it’s, again, not just a parallel, but an almost 1 to 1 repeat of what happened last season.

isha is a conglomeration of vander’s story with his kids, and silco’s story with his daughter. what she doesn’t get the chance to have is her own story.

[osamucide]

please continue to call out people for putting useless things in ‘x reader’ tags and clogging it up with anything but ff!!! (saw you in the replies of one of said posts) The amount of people I’ve blocked specifically in the dazai x reader tags bc they just tag anything they post with it 😒

im glad you agree. i feel bad i probably come off as a bitch when i do it. but i fail to comprehend how these people complaining about misusing tags don’t see the irony in complaining under tags that don’t fucking apply to their complaint. the misuse of tags i see 99% of the time are these types of posts. it’s just fucking annoying

as for people who want more fluff/angst than smut, idk what to say. look on ao3 or wattpad. this hellsite isn’t the be all end all of ff.

and the ‘for reach’ stuff kills me because like reach my butthole actually. bitching and moaning about writers not writing fluff or angst isn’t going to make them write fluff or angst. go hard for the writers that do, that you like—reblog and comment and encourage them and you’ll probably get more content like that. request shit. you’re not gonna guilt anyone into writing what u want them to. write it yourself if you’re that starved for it. i reread the same sigzai/reader fics including my own because there’s not a lot of content out there and i get by just fine. idk be the change you want to see in the world or stfu

sorry for getting preachy anon, i know you get it. this shit just irritates me

[maxdibert]

Why do you think Sirius gave up on his family? Do you think he thought they would forgive him for becoming friends with a blood traitor so he just did what he wanted but as the war progressed he realized he has to actually make a choice? Like he took it as a rebellion and angst at the beginning and only later realized how real the pressure was? Did he not love them enough? What was the deal there? (I know you are a Snape account but I love your takes on other characters as well that's why I'm asking for your opinion on this. Btw I read your fic and I love the way you write Snape's internal dilemas)

Well, you can ask me about any character—I don’t exclusively talk about Severus hahaha and i love to rant about things so... Also, Sirius? Can’t stand him. But I like him as a character because I find him so cynical and hypocritical that he’s absolutely fascinating. I’ve always had this love-hate relationship with rich kids from ultra-conservative families who play at being progressives and think they’re these righteous justice warriors but, at the end of the day, are still just privileged kids with privileged prejudices and privileged habits. And I mean that sincerely—no irony intended. I’ve met plenty of people like that in my life, and I think Sirius is a very realistic representation of the cognitive dissonance that people like this tend to have.

That said, here’s something I’ve always thought. Obviously, this is a personal headcanon based on my own experiences with people who fit his profile, but I think it holds water. Usually, people like this—those who grow up in oppressive environments and eventually become atheist anti-religion types, join the communist party to scandalize their ultra-right-wing parents, or turn into crypto bros after ditching the vegan hippie commune their parents raised them in—do this stuff in late adolescence, almost as adults. But Sirius? He starts rebelling really early, as a kid. By the time he’s 11, he already feels the need to rebel against his family.

It happens the moment he meets James, when James establishes that Slytherin is the worst. Sirius comments—offhandedly, without any resentment or anger—that his whole family’s been in Slytherin. He doesn’t seem like he’s at war with them yet, but you can tell he kind of likes the idea of not being in Slytherin just to piss them off. Add to that the fact that he hints in OotP that his dad was a pushover and calls Regulus an idiot—like he was just a fool—but he doesn’t seem truly resentful toward either of them. Sure, they didn’t have a great relationship, but when he talks about them, it’s more with antipathy than hatred. All of this leads me to the same conclusion: mommy issues.

Sirius had major mommy issues—or at least, that’s how I see it. Rich boys with daddy issues rebel by trying to become powerful men, detached from the arena where their fathers succeeded, but determined to surpass them. Rich boys with mommy issues? They turn into psychos. Seriously, that’s just how it works—I don’t make the rules. I think Sirius always clashed hard with Walburga because (and this is my favorite part, because this isn’t just a headcanon; I’m absolutely convinced of this from the little we see of their interactions—or of him with the portrait—in the books) they had the same shitty personality.

Walburga was a dominant, explosive woman with an imposing, even despotic, character. It’s very reminiscent of Bellatrix and, by extension, very much like Sirius. I think Regulus and Orion had similar personalities—the same kind Narcissa shows: arrogant, smug, classist, but restrained and composed. Egocentric, but calm. Walburga, Sirius, and Bellatrix are the other side of that aristocratic coin: the type who believe they’re entitled to everything and everyone, the kind who bulldoze over everything in their path. They’re wild and uncontrollable personalities, especially if someone tries to rein them in.

In my mind, Sirius took after his mom, and Walburga couldn’t stand having someone so much like her constantly challenging her authority. Sirius, meanwhile, couldn’t stand her trying to control him. So at age 11, his rebellion was probably just a tantrum aimed at his mom, a way to piss her off as much as possible. From there—and thanks to James’s influence, as well as the credit Sirius gave James because, spoiler-not-spoiler, James was also a rich pureblood wizard like him—he started adopting James’s worldview. Not because it was rooted in firm beliefs or clear reasoning, but because James had a family that wasn’t insane, so he was probably right. And if parroting James’s ideas at home gave his mom a few gray hairs, all the better.

It snowballed and escalated until the relationship was unsalvageable. James offered him a place to stay if he wanted to leave, and Sirius moved out. But the start of it all? A tantrum aimed at mommy. Sirius has some massive mommy issues he just can’t handle. And the funniest part? He’ll do anything to avoid being like her. He’ll go to any length to do the exact opposite of what she would do. But in the end, because they share the same awful personality, he behaves in the same violent, despotic, narcissistic way she did—just with different victims: Kreacher or Severus, for example.

It’s a brilliant little Oedipal case study.

[hornybrainmatter]

Need big bro and uncle to plot on how to corrupt me. At first it’s just wandering hands, it gradually turns into groping me and telling me it’s only because they love me so much. It’s the same as cuddles, right?

One day big bro is trying to “teach me” about myself, he fingers me slowly in our shared room. “See? You try.” He says, guiding my hand to my cunt. I do try, and I get super into it. I look confused when big bro goes to knock on my door, before it opens and uncle comes in.

I desperately try to cover up before big bro comes over and restrains me from behind, telling me “it’s okay, you wanna show how much you love uncle, right?” I hesitantly nod as uncle rubs my little clit and forces his length in my wet little hole.

They take turns all night fucking my cunt and throat, making sure I always have at least two cocks in me. I’m completely cockdrunk by the end of it, looking hazy with eyes glossed over.

Now both uncle and big bro use me whenever they want!! They make me do the ickiest stuff sometimes, but they tell me it’s how we show our love.

I love being their plaything, even if I don’t know it!!

{Sorry if this is bad, I’m definitely growing in my writing style and skill 🖤🦇}

[generic-sonic-fan]

Metamy? Please 🥺?

(I'm curious how you would write these two as a couple!)

I always struggle to write purely romance, so here- have a drabble where Sonic points out the irony of Amy's choice in partner, for better or for worse.

Weird Pick, Don't You Think?

Sonic shrugged from his seat on the couch, before getting up and stretching his legs. “I mean, Ames, I’m glad that you stopped chasing me and found someone who gets you, but it still is just a little weird that you went for my copy instead.”  

“He’s not a copy of you.” Amy replied. 

“Metal Sonic. Sure. Whatever you say-”

“He’s not a copy! He’s his own person, and I won’t hear you talk that way about him anymore.” Amy snapped. 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Sonic stopped where he stood. “I didn’t mean to imply that he wasn’t. I’m glad he’s put the work in to have a personality outside of murder.”

“Good.” Amy crossed her arms. 

“Still, you gotta admit, it is pretty funny that you ended up with-”

She stood from the couch. “Would you stop that?!”

“Woah, woah, seriously, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Don’t you get it? He’s everything I wanted you to be!”

Sonic’s mouth snapped shut. 

“He’s quiet and thoughtful and patient! He writes me poetry. He gets me roses because he knows I like them and sets up dinner dates to spoil me. He’s letting me teach him how to bake and even though he gets frustrated that he’s not good at it right away, he’s not overly competitive about everything all the time! He loves hearing me talk about my ‘girly stuff’ like clothes and tarot and he has so much patience with me whenever I get like, like,” she gestured to herself, “like this!”

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes when Sonic didn’t move, didn’t even blink in response. 

He eventually pointed to the kitchen. “Want some water?”

“Well?” She replied. 

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Except it’s not your fault that you’re not all that. You’re not all that. That’s not you.” Amy choked back her tears. “And it’s not fair for me to want that from you, so I found someone who could.”

Sonic looked at her, then to the door. But he didn’t run. “Yeah, yeah, I mean, I guess. . . that makes sense.”

“It’s not that you aren’t, aren’t like that at all, not that you don’t have patience because obviously you do because you’re still here even though I’m yelling at you.”

“Here, I’ll get us some water. Be right back, I promise.”

Three seconds later, he returned with two paper cups from Tails’ kitchen. He set one down on the coffee table. She picked it up and took a sip. She then took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry-”

“-I’m sorry.”

They paused and looked at each other. 

“I’ll go first. I’m sorry. I’ll stop joking about it. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.” Sonic said.

“Okay. And I’m sorry. You’re still my friend.”

“I’m glad.”

“But yeah, it was pretty rude. Thanks for the apology.”

He gave a small, close-lipped smile. “Honestly though, jokes aside, I’m really glad that you found someone who makes you happy.”

“Thank you.” She smiled in return. 

Sonic once again glanced to the door, before pausing. “Do you want a perfectly platonic make-up hug?”

“Huh?”

“I know how much you like hugging our other friends, so if you want a hug, I’ll give you one?”

“Thanks, but, I also know how much you don’t like hugs. How about a handshake instead?”

He rubbed the back of his quills before extending his hand. She took it, and they shook. 

“I can picture it already!” Sonic grinned. “The lovely bride, Amy, walking down the aisle. . .”

“Maybe not for a while yet. I don’t want to rush anything.”

“Amy Rose? Not rushing into a relationship?”

She playfully swatted his hand away. “Oh, stop that!”

They smiled at each other.

[hana-bobo-finch]

Shoutout to this draft I made a couple hours ago when I suddenly had an epiphany for how I could fix a part of my story and I was so excited that the only way I could express it is to write whatever this is but I couldn’t post it because I didn’t have internet

also it got marked as mature for some reason

[lanternlightss]

,,, okay if i Did make a mutuals discord server, would any of you like to join it ??

you can like or reply to this if yeah :]

[leopardom]

it’s definitely not the right time to do this but it’s bugging me so much i need to ask

would anyone still be interested in reading more analyses/interpretations about Damon’s photoshoots with Nace/Jan and Jure after many days or maybe i shouldn’t even bother to write them?

[callmesel]

I'm trying to write down the Racer AU idea but it like, I can't 😭

I have written 5 different versions and I don't know what I like best

The first one would be that Percy is some how force to go to an illegal race competition (maybe by the twins or something like that) and Oliver is there and is like "wow, he is hot" and they start from that and Marcus is just like "wow, he is good and pretty" and he wants to start something with Percy. And Percy is just like, "wow, two hot men that probably won't talk to me ever in my life"

The second idea (the one I like the most) is that Oliver is the one racing and Percy is there to cheer him, even though he knows is super dangerous but he likes to see Oliver happy. And they are like best friends that both have a crush on each other but they don't want to admit it.

Marcus is just there to be Oliver's rival in the track and as a love interest for Percy and they are like super competitive with each other but in a chill way?? And then he sees Percy and he's interested in him and flirts with him. Oliver doesn't like that and so he is jealous so he has a fight with Percy and they end up confessing their feelings and starts dating.

But what happens with Marcus? Percy kinds of have a crush on him and Oliver is like, okay, he is hot and attractive and they both discover that they have a crush on Marcus and don't now what to do.

They then go out on a club as a couple and see Marcus alone. They are all super drunk and they end up in someone's place and have like fucked and the next day they decide what they want to do with their love live and just decide to be a polyamorous couple and they live happily ever after.

Other version of this idea is that Percy starts dating Marcus first and Oliver is like super depressed and confronts Marcus after a bad race and they get into a heated argument and they kiss.

Oliver feels super bad because, he hasn't just lost his best friend but he has also made his new boyfriend cheat with him so he is not talking to Percy and distancing himself from him so he doesn't hurt him anymore. While Marcus is at home and is like, damn, they are both hot, I want to date them both, nerd x bad boy, rivals to lovers, best friends to lovers, best tropes.

Percy hasn't get over Oliver so he is like, I have to tell Marcus that I'm not ready. And they talk and is like:

Marcus: You are in love with your bf, right?

Percy: How did you know?

Marcus: Me too, bro

And they are like, what do we do now? Marcus had told him about the kiss

They decide to go and tell Oliver, while the man is using his pets as a therapist (probably a cat or dog) and Percy go to his house and tells him that they have to talk. Oliver Stars to apologise bit Percy shuts hem and he tells him that he is in love with him but he understands that if he doesn’t feel the same, they could forget that any thing happened or they could even stop talking. That if he wants to go for Marcus he can and all that stuff. But Oliver is like, “no, no no, is not that, but like, I do like Marcus but I like you too and arghh” she just kisses Percy and they make out and now they have to sort their feelings. The. Marcus walks up to Oliver and tells him that he finds him attractive and would like to try something (at this point Percy has already told him about being a poly couple but he has to talk to Marcus and stuff) So they all go to a cafe together at sorts it all and now they are all dating each other.

There is a third version and is like the second one, but still illegal and involves Marcus going to jail and stuff but that is a story for another day.

[boundinparchment]

Will keep my commitments I’ve agreed to through the year but I’m gonna dip semi-permanently and see how it goes. my final writing that will be posted here will be the kinktober piece.

This isn't sustainable for me, not good for me, and honestly, there’s little point in sharing my writing here anymore. no one even cares to reblog and if likes are all that happens, why bother. I get more meaningful engagement from AO3 comments and things just get lost here.

maybe i’ll change my tune again one day and find peace in just posting but all I see is endless consumption despite my own efforts. I do not have the bandwidth for fighting against it right now.

all I’m doing is hurting myself and giving very important parts of myself, creatively and otherwise, to a place that doesn’t deserve them.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

me after editing the aau prologue for the bajillionth time